


A Bed Made for Two Fits Three

by HappyLeech



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Background Mattlomo, Enemies to Coworkers to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fake Dating, Kimball and Doyle work together so they can nap with Grif, Mention of Past Grimmons, Multi, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Spoilers: Doyle Lives AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-06-28 14:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15709503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyLeech/pseuds/HappyLeech
Summary: At first, the idea of getting Kimball and Doyle to take a nap was one Grif could get behind. After all, he was amazing at naps.At 4 in the morning, he realized his mistake.





	1. Grif

“Captain Grif! What on Chorus are you-!?”

Ignoring Doyle, Grif hooked an arm around his neck and Kimball’s, before flopping face first into the biggest bed he’d been able to find. They, of course, came with him, both squawking as they hit the covers.

Bitters and Matthews had really come through. He’d have to thank them later for managing to find such a nice set of sheets. If he survived the night.

“Grif,” Kimball said, her tone dangerous. “What are you doing.”

“You two are stressed out and arguing over nonsense. Like, come on Doyle. Do you really care if Kimball uses a plastic water bottle? And Kimball, does it really matter if Doyle cleans the war room when your finished in there?” Silence answered him, and Grif grinned. “And you can blame Donut. He said you both looked tired and that you needed naps and that-"

He paused. “it doesn’t matter. Anyways, here’s the deal. You are going to get changed into not-armour and we're going to sleep for at least twelve hours and when you wake up, you’ll be more cooperative and Wash and Carolina will decide that maybe you two can be trusted with an army.”

“Captain Grif, really! Me and General Kimball are adults. We do not need…nap time like bratty toddlers!” Doyle objected, pushing out from under Grif’s arm and moving towards the door.

“By the way,” Grif said, “I asked Simmons to set the door to lock until lunch tomorrow. So I'd get comfortable if I was you.” He rolled off the bed with a grin and started peeling himself out of his armour like some kind of fucking fossilized orange.

Kimball just gaped at him from the bed, and Doyle began to bang on the door.

“Let us out this instance! Captain Simmons? Are you out there? Unlock this door this minute!” he shouted, and Grif began to snicker as Dr. Grey shouted back.

“I don’t think so, Donald! We’ll see you, Vanessa, and Grif tomorrow,” she sing-songed.

“Like I said,” Grif kicked the last bit of his armour into a corner and began to peel off his undersuit. “I’d get comfortable.”

* * *

 

Grif sat on the bed and watched as Doyle and Kimball puttered around the room. They had both been outraged again when they found their bed clothes in the washroom but had changed out of their armour with only minimal complaining and swearing. He took a mental note to not tell either of them that Jensen and Palomo had been the ones to get their things from their rooms for the lieutenants safety.

“Well, now what?” Despite being in a tank top and a pair of pyjama bottoms with snowflakes on it, Kimball managed to maintain her air of intimidation, and she stood in front of Grif with her hands on her hips.

“Well, I was thinking we wait for Doyle to get out of the washroom, shut all the lights off, and go to bed.” Grif patted beside him, and she narrowed her eyes.

“It’s not even evening yet,” Doyle said from the other room, and Grif shrugged.

“So? I know for a fact that you’re both running on negative sleep, so I think we might as while fix your deficit. Seriously though, Kimball, get in the fucking bed.”

With a final sigh of defeat, she toed off her slippers and climbed into the bed, a good foot of space between her and where Grif was.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work. All three of us are getting in here, remember? We’re going to be getting close.” He climbed off the bed and pulled the comforter up, before sliding in beside Kimball. “Doyle, hurry the fuck up, we want to go to sleep some time tonight!”

Grif had seen Kimball’s face before, she’d been the first person they’d seen after the Freckles Shake incident without a helmet on he, so he wasn’t surprised. Doyle was another story thought.

“…huh. For some reason I thought you’d be older,” Grif said, cocking his head to the side. “You look like you’re, like, twenty-five.”

“Well, that’s a first,” Doyle muttered, flicking off all of the lights except for one on the bedside table. “I’m usually told I look older than I am. I am not, however, in my twenties. I’m thirty-two.” He gave the bed a look of distaste, and Grif rolled his eyes.

“I will pull you down into my arms if you don’t get in this bed this instant,” he said, grinning as Kimball snickered and he was able to see the slightest hint of a flush on Doyle’s dark skin. “I’m twenty-nine, by the by.”

“I’m thirty,” Kimball contributed, shifting as Doyle finally got into the bed. “I don’t see how this is going to work.”

“It’s easy—Doyle, can you turn off the light?—we lay down, close our eyes, and fall asleep. And,” he pulled a hand out from under the blankets to hold it up in the dark. “before you say anything, my sister has eternally cold feet and she kicks in her sleep and if I can sleep through that, then I can sleep through whatever weird shit you do in your sleep. Also, Sarge and Caboose snore like fucking sawmills and Simmons beeps in his sleep, so that’s not an issue either.” He’d slept partway through the Hand of Merope crashing, he could sleep through anything.

“Okay…” Doyle said, and Grif could feel him and Kimball exchanging a look over his head. “Let’s…go to bed then.”

* * *

 

Ten minutes into it, and Grif was feeling a little frustrated. Kimball was stock still on her back but still awake, and Grif had nearly fallen asleep , but Doyle. Just. Kept. Moving.

“Okay, stop that,” he said, and Kimball jolted. “Doyle, seriously, why are you moving around so much?”

“I—I’m trying to get comfortable,” he said, and Grif groaned.

“You’ve been trying to get comfortable for the last—okay, here. I have an idea. Lay on your side facing the wall.” The bed shifted a little as Doyle listened, and that was when Grif struck. He slid one arm under Doyle and wrapped the other around his waist, ignoring the shriek he let out.

“What are you doing?! Captain Grif, this is—” he made an indignant noise as Grif shifted, making himself comfortable.

“You’re such a little spoon,” he muttered, his arms goosebumping up as Doyle’s arms hit his, not sure what to do with themselves.

Doyle inhaled to screech again, but before he could, Kimball spoke. “Doyle? Just go to sleep.”

Grif could hear Doyle’s teeth clack together as he snapped his mouth shut and he shifted one last time before resting his hands over Grif’s. “Y-Yes. Good idea.”

* * *

 

Grif laid there, his eyes closed and stomach flip-flopping as he listened to Doyle, then Kimball fall asleep. He knew that, being three adults sharing a bed, that there would be contact between them. He hadn’t planned on spooning Doyle when he agreed to do this, though. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision that he instantly regretted.

“…mha?” His eyes opened and flicked to the side as Kimball began to mumble, but he couldn’t roll over. “…no…I don’…gngh…” Then _she_ rolled over, pressing her face into his neck as she continued to sleep talk nonsense, slinging an arm over his hips.

Grif was suddenly glad that the lights were off and that most people couldn’t tell when he was blushing.

 _‘It’s just three people sharing a bed, idiot. Nothing more than that,’_ he told himself sternly, before closing his eyes again. Just two extremely attractive people and him, sharing a bed. Just him spooning Doyle, Kimball nearly spooning him.

Nothing to worry about.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

* * *

 

The next time Grif opened his eyes, it was a quarter past 4 in the morning and Kimball was snoring into his chest. She wasn’t talking in her sleep anymore, but now she had her arms wrapped around him, snuggled in close. A noise from the other side made him turn his head as Doyle crept out of the washroom.

“Sorry,” he whispered to Grif. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Grif lifted his only free hand, shooing him a thumbs up instead of saying anything and chancing waking up Kimball. Doyle returned it, before climbing back into bed, this time settling in and falling back asleep within seconds.

Grif was jealous. He was going to be awake for who knew how long now, Kimball’s hair tickling his nose. Every time he inhaled, he could smell nothing more than her shampoo, something sweeter than the usual military stuff. He was just about ready to fall back asleep when Doyle rolled over and suddenly he was stuck.

 _‘Fuck,’_ he thought to himself, shifting a little to see if he could get free, but Kimball and Doyle shifted as well, Doyle with his arms around his chest and Kimball with hers around his middle.

* * *

 

By the time the clock inched closer and closer to ten am, Grif had decided that night was one of the worst nights of his life. It felt like every few minutes he was awake again, stuck between two of the most touchy people he’d ever slept with. And, seeing as he’d shared a bed with Kai from time to time, that was saying something.

He woke with on leg hanging off the edge of the bed and Doyle sprawled out on top of him with one arm around his neck and the other over his chest. Looking to the side, he could see Kimball taking up about half the bed, one hand tangled in the blankets and the other holding onto Doyle’s pyjama top.

It was almost relaxing, lounging like that, listening to them both breathe, and Grif had to stop himself from reaching out and stroking Kimball’s hair.

Instead he was struck with the thought to do something even more inappropriate when Doyle woke up and propped himself up on Grif’s chest. He could just reach up and—

“Good morning, Captain Grif,” Doyle said, blinking blearily down at him, before yawning. “Ah, excuse me. What time is it?” He let himself collapse back on Grif’s chest, waiting for an answer as Grif frantically tried to find somewhere else to look that wasn’t Doyle’s face.

“Just after ten,” he said, hoping that Doyle didn’t notice how strangled his voice was. Turning to the side, he looked to Kimball, and locked eyes with her.

“…morning,” she mumbled with a soft smile, stretching out her one arm, leaving the other clutching the blankets.

“Morning,” they both replied, and Grif hid an equally soft smile behind his hand as he pretended to yawn.

“So, what now? We still have two hours before Captain Simmons unlocks the door,” Doyle said, finally pulling himself up off Grif and sitting cross-legged between him and Kimball. Kimball shrugged.

“I dunno about you two—” she yawned again, sitting up as well. “I’m going to have a shower. Did you get new clothing for us when you ransacked our rooms?”

“Uh…” Grif actually didn’t know what the lieutenants had brought outside of their bed clothes. “I’ll just. Message Simmons about that.” He climbed out of the bed to grab his phone when he noticed something from the corner of his eye. “Uh…Kimball? Your shirt…”

He turned away as Doyle squeaked and Kimball adjusted her tank top, tapping out a message to Simmons.

> _[Grf]: were all awake_
> 
> _[Grf]: can u get jensen and palomo to get some duds for kimball n doyle_
> 
> _[Grf]: and_ _fr me_

* * *

 

“I have to admit, I didn’t expect this to be as…restful as it was,” Kimball said, drying her hair. Jensen had shown up when she was in the shower with an armful of clothing for the three of them, and Grif had gotten dressed as quickly as possible, itching to get out of the room.

“I must agree,” Doyle said, still sitting on the bed. He had taken the chance to grab his glasses from the washroom before Kimball had climbed into the shower, and Grif could have sworn he spent the twenty minutes she was getting clean inspecting _him_ instead of getting dressed.

“Yeah, well—” he started to say, but both Kimball and Doyle interrupted him, talking over each other.

“Can we do this—”

“—if we make this a weekly thing?”

Grif really hoped the sheer panic he was feeling wasn’t event on his face. “Yeah, sure. You guys didn’t fight at all last night, so I figure that’s good for everyone if you stay this chill.” Ignoring his armour, he walked backwards out the door. “Just let me know whenever you wanna have a nap. You know where to find me.”

Once he was out of sight, he bolted for his and Simmons room, fully intending to hide the rest of the day.

He was going to kill Donut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look upon my Crackship, ye Mighty, and despair!
> 
> * * *
> 
> OKAY SO THIS ISNT A ONESHOT ANYMORE or even a two shot. This thing is going to have Chapters
> 
> * Grif had an inkling of a thing for Kimball (bc who doesn't) and Doyle but was never going to do anything about it  
> * Donut knew this (I like to think that Donut keeps up to date with everyone's dating/relationship stuff even if they don't know they have dating/relationship stuff)  
> * Donut: hey Grif Kimball and Doyle look so tired lately. You should sleep with them! I bet that'd help  
> * Grif, trying to wipe the coffee up that he just spit all over himself: w h a t  
> * GrifKimDoyle is slowly becoming a Thing for me and I'm so so sorry
> 
> * * *
> 
> [Personal Tumblr](http://happyleech.tumblr.com/) / [TextsFromLastNight Red vs Blue Tumblr](https://textsfromchorus.tumblr.com/)


	2. Doyle

“Congratulations,” Doyle said, sitting on the bed and frowning at Kimball. “You scared him off.”

“Me?” She snapped, before whipping her towel at him. “I’m not the one who was _lounging_ on him like some kind of pillow when we woke up, _Donald_.”

He threw the towel on the ground, standing. “Well, I wasn’t the one _latched_ onto him the entire night, _Vanessa_.”

“Yeah?” They were facing each other now, and even though he was still in his pyjamas and Kimball was in fatigues, Doyle wasn’t going to back down. “At least I didn’t make him spoon me because I wouldn’t get into the bed.”

“Well, I didn’t expose myself to him, but here we are,” he said, crossing his arms. Kimball flushed a deep red and turned away.

“It’s not like it was on purpose,” she muttered, and Doyle instantly regretted saying anything.

“I know you didn’t, Vanessa. I—I’m sorry. That was low and inappropriate of me.”

Here they were, proving Captain Grif, and everyone else’s, point. How could they be trusted to work together and control an army if they couldn’t handle a simple conversation? Although, thinking about it, there was nothing simple about the current conversation.

Kimball sighed. “I’m sorry too.” She smiled wryly. “We’re proving his point right now, aren’t we.”

“Mhm,” Doyle nodded. “You do have to admit though, he did look destressed when he left. Do you think something happened in the night?”

“Are we sure he even wants to sleep—to nap with us again?” Kimball said instead of answering Doyle, trailing off as she sat on the bed beside him.

Doyle frowned and took his glasses off. He could tell what she was thinking. “This…isn’t an abuse of power, right? We aren’t making Captain Grif do anything against his will.”

“I—” Kimball matched his worried look with one of her own. “Go shower or get dressed, Doyle. I can’t talk to you about this when you’re in tartan and flannel.”

He bit his tongue to stop himself from commenting on her snowflake pyjamas and marched into the washroom. He needed time to gather his thoughts anyways.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time he’d finished washing, gotten dressed, and shaved, Kimball had seated herself in front of a desk and was scribbling on a piece of paper.

“Good shower?” she asked absent mindedly. “You should sit too, I want to figure this out.”

Doyle sat. “Shouldn’t we get to work? I’m sure the others will want to see how we work together now that we’re well rested.”

“This is work. I want to hash this out with you before we deal with anything else.” She slid the paper over to him along with a pen. “We both want to sleep with Captain Grif again, correct?”

“Correct…” Doyle took the paper.

> ‘ _First names_
> 
> _Boundaries_
> 
> _Better Sleepwear’_

“I figure, if we remain professional about this, then it won’t become weird. It’ll just be three adults sharing a bed.”

Doyle began to add to her list. “Maybe then we shouldn’t talk about how we’re ‘sleeping with Captain Grif’, then. That does lead to some…implications. Ones that I assume we are trying to avoid.”

Kimball made a choking noise and dropped her head into her hands. “Yes…let’s not talk about it like that.”

“There there, Vanessa.” Doyle reached over and patted her on the shoulder with a grin. “I think we shouldn’t advertise this to everyone as well. It’s…rather inappropriate, when you think about it. And I doubt Captain Grif wants this spread around. What do you think of a schedule as well?”

“What do you mean? Like, a timeline?” Kimball sat up and frowned. “Wouldn’t that be a little constricting?”

Doyle shook his head. “No, no, I mean… like we make a schedule for when we do this. Do we want to push it and ask for every week? Every two weeks?” he hesitated, worrying at his bottom lip before continuing. “That…was the best, most relaxing sleep I’ve had since this war began. And I don’t know about you, but I could do this every night.”

Thank god he didn’t turn as red as Kimball did.

“Agreed. We don’t tell anyone who doesn’t already know about this.” She paused. “What about the rumors this will generate? Even if we don’t mention this, the soldiers will still talk. Most of them are young, so there’s no doubt they’ll come up with something.”

“Right…” They looked at each other, and Kimball sighed.

“There’s only one thing we can do, I guess.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re DATING?”

Doyle winced as Emily shrieked in his ear. With a voice like hers, they wouldn’t need to make a formal announcement to the troops.

“Oh, this is a delight! I’m so happy for you, Donald. I knew last night would do wonders for your relationship.”

On the other side of the room, Kimball was trying to avoid Carolina and Washington’s eyes and not doing a very good job of it. It was amazing how he could tell that they were both giving him and Kimball the side eye, considering they were the only ones with their helmets on in the room.

“Uh…so was all that arguing before just some weird flirting? Because I can tell you right now that usually isn’t the best way to go about it.” Tucker said, tilting his head to the side.

“Yes, well, that’s enough about that. What’s on the docket?” Kimball said, shoving Tucker in the shoulder before moving to stand next to Doyle. “We got started…later than usual. I apologize.”

“Me and Wash took care of everything that needed doing today,” Carolina said, an odd note in her voice. Doyle couldn’t tell if she was excited or disappointed. “You should probably tell everyone the new development before—”

The door opened behind them and everyone turned as the lieutenants poked their heads into the room.

“Matthews said that Laker said that Hansen said one of you died and that’s why you weren’t at breakfast or lunch today,” Palomo said, grinning.

“Someone else said that Kimball murdered you and Agent Carolina had to help her hid your body, General Doyle,” Jensen added, elbowing Andersmith in the side.

“I think there’s 60$ on you two eloping,” Bitters finished. “But I think they’re dreaming. Do you think I should put 50$ down on you getting hitched once the war is done or am I wasting my money?”

“—before the rumors start,” Epsilon said, finishing Carolina’s thought for her. “I guess it’s too late for that. Have fun fixing _that_ mess.”

“Yes, thank you for your…encouraging words, Epsilon,” Doyle snapped, before groaning and rubbing his forehead. “Okay, Vanessa. Let’s go talk to our men.”

 

* * *

 

 

> _‘First names_
> 
> _Boundaries_
> 
> _Better sleepwear_
> 
> _Keep quiet about it_
> 
> _Set a schedule_
> 
> _Don’t fluster Captain Grif’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a dumb one-shot and now....there's gonna be at least 5 chapters? And so many tropes.... This may be the second cheesiest thing I've written
> 
> * * *
> 
> * Kimball and Doyle: we shouldn't embarrass Captain Grif...lets pretend to date instead.  
> * Kimball and Doyle: this won't backfire at ALL  
> * People who know that Kimball and Doyle were sharing a bed with Grif: Grey, Bitters, Matthews, Palomo, Jensen, Andersmith, Donut, Grif, Simmons  
> * Everyone else just thinks that Kimball and Doyle had sex  
> * (that being said I don't do smut so I will not be writing anything sexual outside of implications. Later. Way later)  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> [Personal Tumblr](http://happyleech.tumblr.com/) / [TextsFromLastNight Red vs Blue Tumblr](https://textsfromchorus.tumblr.com/)


	3. Grif

Honestly, Grif hadn’t actually expected Kimball and Doyle to ask him to come back. After all, once he finally crawled out of his room the next day, the only thing anyone would talk about was how they had hooked up.

It made sense then why Donut had sought him out and offered to talk.

Grif wasn’t going to let that effect him, thought. Kimball was hot, yeah, and Doyle was funny, but there were plenty of other hot people, like Simmons, and funny people, like Simmons, in the universe.

Not that he was going to date Simmons- they’d tried it once, a week spent almost the same as usual except there was more kissing in private and they had sex twice before Simmons admitted that he wasn’t really into the whole dating thing and they broke it off amicably.

So when he got the message that, if he was free that night they would like to have him spend the night, Grif was surprised.

“Again?” Simmons asked as Grif balled up a change of clothing into a bag.

“Why? Jealous?” he said with a grin, and Simmons scowled.

“As if! Maybe tonight I’ll actually be able to muck this room out without listening to you complain,” he snapped, but with a grin on his face. “Though, if you hide in here all day tomorrow, I’m going to need an excuse to tell Sarge so he doesn’t break the door down. And I can’t say food poisoning or everyone will be up in arms.”

“Say that listening to Matthews talk about Palomo all the time gave me a toothache and I’ll come out when I don’t feel like throwing up,” Grif said, before sighing. “Wish me luck.”

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Grif slipped into the room they’d used before, an underground bank vault turned officer quarters, Kimball and Doyle were already there and already in their night clothes.

“Shit, am I late?” he dumped his bag in the corner. He was sure that Kimball’s message said 9pm…

“Not at all, we were just early,” Doyle said, beaming.

“Okay, cool. Uh, are you sure you still want to do this? I can leave if you two want to just do your thing.” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Their faces fell, almost comically. “Why do you think that?” Kimball asked carefully, and Grif shrugged.

“Eh, well, I mean you two are dating, right? You don’t really want me taking up space in the bed- it’d be more comfortable that way, I bet.”

“We—” Doyle stood, darting past Grif to make sure the door was closed and locked. “We’re not really dating.”

“What.”

Kimball laughed. “We didn’t want any rumors to start circulating, so we thought that was the best lie to go with.”

Grif crossed his arms and tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “You…what? You don’t want people to know that you hang around with me? So you thought pretending to date would be a better idea?”

“No!” Kimball shook her head. “No, not at all! We just…just didn’t want anyone thinking that we were abusing our power and taking advantage of you…” She sighed and flopped backwards on the bed.

“I apologize, Captain Grif. That wasn’t our intention,” Doyle said. “it was just… well, we didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.  You know how people talk.”

Grif did. He’d tripped over a piece of Caboose’s armour and fell face first into Washington’s arms, and for nearly two weeks the gossip of choice was about their illicit affair. If he never had to hear about how he was cheating on Simmons with Wash, Grif’d be a happy man.

“Yeah, yeah that makes sense I guess. I’ll just-“ he pointed to the washroom. “I’ll go get changed.”

 

* * *

 

 

This time Grif was the one standing awkwardly by the bed. While he was getting changed Kimball and Doyle had shimmied into the bed, leaving space for him on the side beside Kimball.

“Now, before we get to it,” Doyle said, pulling his glasses off and setting them to the side. “Vanessa and I thought that it’d be best if we didn’t use our titles while we’re here. So, please call me Donald.”

Grif blinked, then looked at Kimball and back at Doyle. “Uh…yeah I get what you’re saying but I can’t. No offense, but I think I’ll stick to ‘Doyle’ and ‘Kimball’, yeah?”

They shared a glance, before Kimball nodded. “Okay Grif. So, uh, are you going to get into the bed or are you going to just stand there and stare all night? I don’t have quite the upper body strength to heave you into bed like you did with Donald last time.”

Grif could feel his face heating up, but luckily neither of the generals seemed to notice. “Oh, shut up,” he said without any heat as he climbed into the bed beside Kimball. “I’m pretty sure you’re lying. I’ve— the soldiers have seen you carry some pretty heavy shit, apparently.”

He didn’t need to out himself as being one of many people who very obviously ogled Kimball when she was helping move supplies from their old base to Armonia.

Kimball groaned. “I swear…you pick up one box of munitions and that’s all anyone will talk about for weeks. Felix and Locus? Merging with the Feds? Nope, the gossip is all about how nice my arms are and 20-somethings passing notes talking about how they want me to step on them.”

Doyle snorted. “Well our troops are all rather…young. Can you really blame them for focusing on something more pleasant?”

“You two sure you’re not actually dating?” Grif asked his pillow, before squawking as Kimball elbowed him in the ribs. “What? It’s an honest question.”

“Go the fuck to sleep, Grif.”

 

* * *

 

 

Where as the first time they’d slept in the same bed together Grif couldn’t fall asleep if his life depended on it, this time he was out like a light until suddenly he wasn’t.

“Whatzit?” he mumbled, rolling over fully prepared to shove Simmons out of bed because if he wanted to bed-share he should have gone to bed when Grif did, only to lock eyes with a guilty looking Kimball.

“Sorry!” she whispered. “I just have to go to the washroom. Go back to sleep, Grif.”

Sleep. Sleep sounded good. He closed his eyes as Kimball slid out of bed, and was back asleep before Doyle rolled over to latch onto him.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time he woke up, it was to hushed whispers and someone warm moving away from his side.

“—we talked about this, Donald.” Grif opened his eyes a crack. Doyle was sitting up in the bed, a gap between where he was and where he had been moments before.

“Short of putting up a barrier there’s not much I can do when I’m asleep, Vanessa,” came the quiet reply. “I think…as long as we aren’t, as you put it, lounging on him like the last time. Let’s just go back to sleep, and hopefully tomorrow morning isn’t as uncomfortable for Grif.”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

Grif closed his eyes and let himself drift back to sleep. He’d consider what they were talking about in the morning.

 

* * *

 

 

The final time Grif woke up, it was nearly time for lunch and Doyle was puttering around the room.

“Good morning, Grif,” Doyle said as Grif sat up. “Vanessa has already left- Agent Carolina messaged her, said it was important, and I’m on my way out as well. Do remember to shut the lights off when you leave?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” He watched as Doyle left the room and frowned.

Why did he feel like he’d forgotten something?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have no idea how much fun I'm having with this fic it's....redic.....
> 
> * * *
> 
> * Enjoy the vague background ship! (I jsut love Matthews.....so much. my boy)  
> * It's 2am and this is unedited and my cat in on my face and I can't think of anything fic relevant so i d k
> 
> * * *
> 
> [Personal Tumblr](http://happyleech.tumblr.com/) / [TextsFromLastNight Red vs Blue Tumblr](https://textsfromchorus.tumblr.com/)


	4. Kimball

Kimball frowned down at the floor as she walked down the hall. She’d been woken earlier than planned by a message from Carolina telling her that there’d been an issue with one of her captains, and with a backwards glance at Donald and Grif, slipped out the door.

“What happened?” she asked as she walked into the war room. Carolina, Washington, and Dr. Grey were already there, a crumpled paper sitting on the table.

“Where’s Doyle?” Carolina asked, and Kimball shrugged.

“He looked like he needed the sleep,” she said, picking up the paper. “I didn’t think Captain Valli was due back for another day’s time.”

Captain Valli was one of the newer captains, promoted after the battle for Armonia, and one with a tester team. She was New Republic, but her 4 squad mates were Federals. Captain Joules was her opposite, being Federal with 4 New Republics. From their reports, everything was going well, unless suddenly they weren’t.

Washington jerked back in surprise. “Right! I forgot last night was your—anyways, that’s not important. What is important is that Valli was forced to bring her team home because of the mercenaries.”

“Or rather, one mercenary. He calls himself Sharkface and, well, I’ve dealt with him before.” Carolina finished. “I can’t believe you forgot that last night was her and Doyle’s night. It’s on the schedule.”

Kimball inadvertently crushed the paper even more than it already was. “You put that on a schedule?” she asked, feeling a headache oncoming. Maybe she’d be able to sneak back and catch a few more hours of sleep with Donald and Grif…since it was on the schedule.

Dr. Grey just grinned at her. “It’s so the soldiers don’t catch you two in the middle of anything,” she said cheerily. “People walking in on other people in the middle of the thralls of lovemaking can be quite awkward, not to mention a mood ruiner. Trust me, I know!”

“How…considerate…” Kimball said, deciding that she didn’t want to know the details. “What can you tell me about Sharkface, Carolina?”

“I would assume he was on the prison ship that Felix and Locus took, and if they told him that Wash and I are assisting your cause, then he’ll do everything he can to get back at us. We, uh, ran into him when we were still part of Freelancer.” Carolina said, tilting her head to the side.

“Flamethrower guy?” Washington asked, and Carolina nodded.

“Yeah. I don’t know all the much about his fighting style or capabilities. When we faced him, he had a flamethrower, but Captain Valli said that he focused on hand to hand, as well as a pair or wrist mounted flamethrowers. She’s…well, I’ll let Dr. Grey tell you about Valli.”

“She’s got third degree burns covering 45% of her body,” Grey said with a frown. “Currently Dr. Jacobi is with her, and hopefully we’ll be able to keep her stable and from contracting any infections. Her team also have minor burns and bruises, with Private Hilse also suffering from a broken collarbone and shattered wrist. The paper there is what Dr. Jacobi and I were able to get from Captain Valli before she fell unconscious. She…wasn’t the one to write it, obviously.”

Kimball smoothed the paper out on the desk and began to read the report.

_‘City of Ostina entirely under mercenaries control. Secondary stronghold for their munitions and medical from what Private Davis said. Light security, but a mercenary named Sharkface is camped there. Got within three miles before they started taking pot-shots at us, sent Sharkface to smoke us out when we didn’t immediately leave. He stuck to hand to hand, but when Private Perry said something about Agent Carolina, he changed tactics and began using wrist mounted flamethrowers. Hilse was downed, and he aimed for her. I stepped in front of her, took the brunt of the fire. Told us that he wasn’t going to kill us today, said we were a warning for Carolina. Didn’t get the intel, sorry.’_

Kimball sighed. “So, he has a thing about you, Carolina?”

“I… may have helped to drop a building on him and killed all of his coworkers,” she said, at least having the grace to sound embarrassed. “I’m assuming that he survived and was taken into UNSC custody soon after and blames me because I did throw an alien glider into him.”

“Right. Dr. Grey, when Captain Valli wakes up next, let her know that her and her team have nothing to be sorry about.”

* * *

 

Two hours later, Donald walked into the war room which had steadily filled with Reds and Blues and their lieutenants.

“Oh! Ah…good afternoon?” he said, sounding a little unsure as everyone turned to face him, Tucker clapping and Dr. Grey grinning.

“Good afternoon, Donald! Did you have a good night?” she said in the same singsong voice she’d used earlier. His eyes flicked from her to Kimball and back again as he slowly moved to the chair next to Kimball.

“Yes?” he said, taking Valli’s report as Kimball slid it over to him. “So this is why you left so early.”

As he read over the short report, and Dr. Jacobi updated them all on Valli’s condition, Kimball let her eyes wander. The reveal of someone with a vendetta against Agent Carolina didn’t do much to phase her captains, with Tucker shrugging and muttering something about it being no real surprise, and Caboose saying something about a meta. They were still making plans regarding how to take him down before anyone else ended up in the poorly stocked temporary burn ward, when Sarge looked up and around the room.

“Where on God’s green earth is Grif. Simmons! Go find him.”

Oh no.

She kicked Donald’s leg and he kicked back, but before anyone could say that Grif hadn’t been in his room all night, Simmons shook his head.

“Sorry, I already tried to get him up. He said that if he had to listen to Matthews gush about Palomo anymore he was going to get sick, then he put a timed lock on the door and I didn’t feel like wasting my time trying to get it open.”

“I went by earlier and there wasn’t anyone in your room,” Tucker said, and Simmons shrugged, everyone ignoring how Matthews hid his face in his hands and how Jensen elbowed Palomo in the side.

“Then he probably found a storage room to pass out in. Where do you think he goes when he doesn’t want to do Wash’s training? And I don’t have time to go looking in all the nooks and crannies either—I have to update the spreadsheets for the medics and help Dr. Jacobi make a list of the supplies we need if we’re going to be dealing with someone who shoots fire out of his hands.” He paused. “Wait, why were you in our room?”

“Grif has the best snacks hidden away, and I’m not about to get myself banned from the kitchens like he has.”

* * *

 

“Captain Simmons knows.” Was the first thing out of Donald’s mouth once they were alone, back in their room. Grif had shown up an hour after Doyle, a bowl of something in his hands, and he shrugged away any questions about where he’d been.

“Yes. Him and Dr. Grey. The lieutenants as well—Palomo and Jensen brought us a change of clothing the first night, and didn’t Grif say that the idea was Donut’s in the first place?” Kimball replied, sitting on the bed. “So that’s at least seven people who know that Grif is a part of this whole…thing.”

And Captain Simmons must have known from the get go, seeing as he and Grif shared a room.

“Do you think he knows that this is a farce?” Donald looked worried at the thought, and Kimball stood and pulled him away from the desk to sit with her on the bed.

“Doubtful. He may know that we’re spending the night in Grif’s company, but I don’t think he would say anything in case Simmons slips up. I’m sure we’re safe, Donald.”

“If you say so, Vanessa. Shall we talk about last night?”

Kimball nodded. “I…do agree with what you said earlier. There really isn’t anything we can do to stop our selves from latching on to each other while we sleep. But, as long as we keep a respectful distance while we’re awake and in bed, I think we’ll be safe from any…awkwardness.”

Donald nodded. “I also think we should suggest that Grif sleeps in the middle from now on, so we don’t wake each other up in the night if we need to use the washroom or have an urgent call that needs taking.”

Kimball winced. “I really didn’t mean to wake either of you up,” she muttered, and Donald laughed.

“I know you didn’t, but I’m glad woke me. I am surprised though that Agent Carolina sent you a message instead of coming here to get you.”

“They have a schedule for these nights, now. Dr. Grey said that it’s to make sure no one walks in on us doing anything risqué, but since she knows that Grif is with…” Kimball trailed off. “Wait. Does she think that we’re _sleeping_ sleeping with Grif?”

Donald shook his head. “No, no no. She wouldn’t think that…right? I mean, I spoke to her in private about how we were involved now and she said she was glad that Grif could bring us together before giving me a handful of—” he cut himself off, and motioned to the desk. “Things that I doubt we’ll need.”

Kimball laughed, standing and opening the drawer. “Well, at least these aren’t expired,” she said as Donald held his head in his hands. “I’m glad that she’s promoting safe sex, even if we aren’t having any.”

“She asked me today if we needed lube, and if I cared if she got flavoured or unflavoured from Donut,” Donald said, voice muffled but sounding mortified. “And said that if we needed more condoms, to ask Dr. Jacobi.

“From Donut?” Kimball said, putting the condoms back and sitting back on the bed with Donald. “Right, I forgot that he does the occasional treck out for supplies.”

“No, it’s from his personal stash apparently,” Donald said, finally removing his face from his hands and falling backwards onto the bed. “And she said that Dr. Jacobi was going to be contacting you for a lecture about birth control later as well.”

“God, with all the prep they’re putting into this, we almost should start sleeping together so we don’t waste supplies,” Kimball muttered, ignoring as Donald began to choke. “That does explain the meeting with medical I have on my schedule now. And the contraceptives showing up in my office.”

“Yes, well, Emily has always been a through woman. And after one of the privates went through a pregnancy scare, oh, a year and a half ago, she’s been on everyone’s case. I’m surprised she hasn’t made time yet to do a seminar about safe sex yet. Although, she may be colluding with Dr. Jacobi to ensure all their bases are covered.” He rolled over to look up at her. “I need to ask where Grif and his team found this bed, because it’s better than the one in my quarters.”

“I know…I could almost sleep here every night,” Kimball said, joining Donald on her back on the bed. “My back doesn’t like the cot in my room.” She paused. “We…could just use this room,” she suggested slowly. “Everyone thinks we’re dating, so it’d make sense if we finally moved into the same room. It’s bigger than our quarters are right now anyways.”

Donald nodded. “Then we wouldn’t have to worry about bringing a change of clothing, or our toiletries, with us. The only issue would be if someone spotted Grif on his way here.”

“He has managed to get here twice now without anyone knowing,” Kimball pointed out. “And I bet it would still be nice sharing a bed, even if it’s just the two of us.”

“More room, like he said last night,” Donald said, before nodding. “I think it’s settled. I’m going to go gather my things. It’s a pleasure to be moving in with you, Vanessa.”

He held out his hand, and she took it, shaking firmly. “Right back at you, Donald.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote most of this today instead of working on my blog oops. SAFE SEX IS GOOD SEX YOU GUYS
> 
> * * *
> 
> * Despite all the sex talk, I won't be writing any! It's not something I write and not something I often read, so the most y'all get from me is fade to black  
> * Every medical professional left on Chorus is probably handing out condoms like candy. The last thing anyone needs is an unplanned pregnancy in the middle of the war  
> * Simmons is going to have to come up with more and more ridiculous excuses as to why Grif is never around the day after Kimball and Doyle's nights but he'll do it bc they are Best Friends  
> * Someone: Where's Grif  
> * Simmons: He went fishing  
> * Someone: Oh, okay  
> * Emily Grey has deffo been walked in on during sex more than once
> 
> * * *
> 
> [Personal Tumblr](http://happyleech.tumblr.com/) / [TextsFromLastNight Red vs Blue Tumblr](https://textsfromchorus.tumblr.com/)


	5. Grif

Grif’s arm was asleep.

Normally, he would adjust the offending appendage and wait for the unpleasant tingling to fade before falling back asleep, but this time it wasn’t working. Something, no, someone warm and soft was pinning it down.

Eyes still closed, because opening them would be the first sign of defeat and admitting to himself that he was actually awake, Grif tried to figure out who was on him. It wasn’t Simmons, it wasn’t Kai, it wasn’t heavy enough to be Caboose, it definitely wasn’t Sarge, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t Tucker. Donut could have gotten drunk and wandered in, but he was the kind of guy to flake out across Grif’s middle, not pass out in his arms.

He tried to move his arm again, only for the person to mutter and roll over, pressing their face into—Kimball. It was Kimball who was pressed up against him, with one of her legs swung up over his. On the other side, Doyle snorted in Grif’s ear and shifted, curling up in a ball and placing his head square on Grif’s chest.

Well, now he was awake.

* * *

 

It had been 104 hours since the last time they’d slept in the same bed, and 78 since Kimball and Doyle announced to everyone that they were going to move in together. Grif had assumed that they were going to try and keep their nightly meetups to once a week, but it wasn’t even two days before Kimball contacted him again.

Apparently just the two of them in the bed felt ‘weird’.

Once again, they were waiting for him when he walked in, both with questions in mind. Kimball was worried about him being spotted coming to their room, but he’d waved away her concern the minute she voiced it.

“No one comes down here because they know it’s your space now. The last thing anyone wants is to walk in on you two going at it. Besides, I come in the back way.” Grif said, tossing his boots into the corner next to Doyle’s.

“There’s a back entrance?” Doyle asked, and then they took five minutes for Grif to show them, just in case they needed a swift exit, although if the mercenaries were infiltrating Doyle and Kimball’s bedroom then they were probably already hooped.

Then they took time to grill Grif on who knew about their arrangement, but once they heard that Simmons was the only one with any idea that it was still ongoing, they noticeably relaxed.

“You guys were really worried about that, huh?” He asked.

“Well…not that we don’t trust Captain Simmons,” Kimball said, looking embarrassed. “But we didn’t know who else knew, and if they could be trusted not to contribute to rumours.”

“Nah, don’t worry. Simmons won’t say shit, and as far as the others are concerned it was a one-night thing.” Grif shrugged and decided against telling them that Donut kept trying to talk to him about his ‘ _crushed feelings_ ’. If they knew he ~~liked- found them attractive- might have fallen for them~~ had his own reasons for bed sharing in the first place, it’d just make things even more awkward.

Not that being pulled into bed between them wasn’t awkward, not when Kimball decided to have a conversation with Doyle with Grif laying between them, acutely aware of where they were compared to him. The fact that Kimball leaned across him to steal Doyle’s glasses so he’d shut the lights off didn’t help either.

* * *

 

It had been forty-five minutes since Grif woke up with Kimball killing his arm and he was ready to do literally anything to move it out from under her head without waking her up. The few times he moved it, she would grumble and shift, and eventually he gave up as she invaded more and more of his space.

Doyle, on the other hand, seemed to be attempting to make himself as small as possible while also taking up a good portion of the bed. He was curled up in a tight ball, his head on Grif’s stomach, snoring. There was a good five inches of bed behind Doyle that Kimball could have used, seeing as she was both hanging off of it and also latched onto Grif like an octopus.

Grif also didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t usually sleep on his back, but if he rolled to the right he’d end up curled around Doyle and if he rolled to the left, he’d be face to face with Kimball. And while his right arm was trapped, the left was free but with no where to go. If Grif put it on his chest it’d be in Doyle’s face. If he put it behind his head, in five minutes it’d be just like his other arm. And he wasn’t going to put it around Doyle’s shoulders, no way.

Eventually he just let it lay straight out on Doyle’s pillow and stared blankly at the ceiling. Chances were that Kimball and Doyle would both be awake in five hours time, so if he could survive until then…

“Mhm…Grif…s’ I don’t…” Kimball mumbled under her breath and his eyes snapped to her. “…moph…”

Grif took it as a sign, and carefully tried to move his arm again. She rolled over onto her back, freeing it up but also smacking him in the throat with her arm  

“Stoppit,” she grumbled as Grif stifled a cough, before slowly moving his now-freed arm to his side. Sure, now there was the same dilemma as with his left arm, but he didn’t care. His arm was going to sit on Kimball’s for as long as it took for the pins-and-needles feeling to disappear.

* * *

 

“Grif.”

Doyle was shaking his shoulder, but Grif decided that he was going to ignore him and tightened his hold on the pillow. The pair of bed hogs had kept him up for nearly an hour that he could have spent sleeping- he wasn't moving for anything less than a fire, or maybe Felix and Locus.

“Grif, please, wake up.”

Nope, he wasn’t getting up. If Doyle needed something from him so badly, he could ask Simmons for help. Simmons would probably be better at whatever Doyle needed anyways.

“Grif!”

This time Kimball hissed his name, and Grif let out an exaggerated snore in response. It'd take more than repeating his name to get him up and moving.

“Well, this isn’t getting us anywhere,” Doyle said, and Grif grunted as the bed dipped on the other side as Doyle flopped back on it. “Please, Captain Grif, Vanessa and I must get going.”

“Sounds like a plan. I plan on staying in bed, so have fun you two.” Grif finally said, turning his face into the pillow to block out the light.

“Well, I’ll need you to let me go before I can do that,” Kimball said wryly, and Grif snapped his eyes open.

Instead of having his face pressed into one of the many pillows, it was pressed into Kimball's chest. Instead of holding onto a pillow, his arms were around Kimball’s middle. He tilted his head up and looked into her deeply amused eyes.

“Good morning,” she said, and Grif _squeaked_.

“I am so sorry!” he said as he pulled back and rolled away, only to end up laying half on Doyle. “Oh my god.”

Kimball untangled herself from the sheets, snickering as he rolled back into the middle of the bed and burried his face in his hands. “Just fuckin’ kill me now. Doyle, smother me with a pillow. They’ll think it was natural causes.”

“Not if you’re in the middle of our bed, they wont. They’d find your body and soon there’d be talk about cheating and crimes of passion and by the end of the week, Vanessa and I will be in jail and Agent Carolina will be running the show.” Doyle said, and Grif shot him a sleepy glare. “I’m only speaking the truth, Grif.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shouldn’t you be going somewhere?” he asked, stealing the blankets once Doyle stood and wrapping himself up in them. “Although…are you sure you want to go out looking like that?”

“Well, it’s not my fault that I don’t have the time to shower before hand,” Kimball pointed out. “And you rolled over onto Doyle so that’s why he looks so mussed up. So, it’s _your_ fault that we look like we just had a quickie in the broom closet.”

She pulled Doyle out of the room while Grif was choking on his own spit, and he hoped she was proud of herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My notes for this chapter: Grif the Snugs Dealer
> 
> * * *
> 
> I DEDICATE THIS CHAPTER TO HAMS WHO DREW ME A REAL KICK ASS GRIFKIMDOYLE PICTURE
> 
> * * *
> 
> *I also dedicate this to my dog who is also a giant bed hog and the reason I woke up laying on my bed sideways and half on the floor  
> * Chorus has a 26 hour day bc…I like the idea that it’s like Earth but not. It’s space Australia with a longer day and night cycle and there’s three seasons not four (wet, dry, and cold) and maybe there’s actually only 10 months so once the war is done Kimball and Doyle fudge around with Earth Holidays and Grif convinces them to make Pancake Day or w/e a planet-wide holiday  
> * Lots of ppl have fallen asleep on or near Grif bc he is, in my honest opinion, shaped like a friend  
> * Grif: Hey Simmons can u kill me real quick  
> * Simmons: nah  
> * Grif 100% wishes that Donut knew that he was still bed-sharing with Kimball and Doyle bc Simmons just don't understand how awkward it was to wake up with his face in Kimball's boobs   
> * g o d I kinda wish 1) i could write smut and 2) i didn't tell myself that I was going to try to write this as a slow burn  
> * also i know it's silly but i feel like this chapter should have been longer...........
> 
> * * *
> 
> [Personal Tumblr](http://happyleech.tumblr.com/) / [TextsFromLastNight Red vs Blue Tumblr](https://textsfromchorus.tumblr.com/)


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